Escaping the Past
by qt3.14159
Summary: Pre / Post KOTOR2. LSF Exile. Vashti finds herself on the edge of the galaxy, trying to escape the memories of Malachor.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story falls in the same general timeline as my others. It's been a loooong time since I've written anything, so I apologize before hand if it is meandering, trite or cliched. Most of this chapter occurs shortly after Malachor and is pretty dark, but the next chapters should be set post K2 and should be lighter fare. If I ever get around to writing them, that is...

* * *

_The past is our definition.  
We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it,  
but we will escape it only by adding something better to it.  
_-Wendell Berry

She stared into her glass of Corellian brandy watching the dark red liquid swirl and churn as she absentmindedly rotated the glass in her hand. She didn't see the bartender glance at her with annoyance or her fellow patrons who jostled her and anyone else sitting at the bar. There would have been a time in her life when every detail would have been noticed, every psyche registered and every emotion catalogued. But now she saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing. Her own jumbled emotions had been shoved down, deep into the recesses of her mind, where she willed them to never see the light of day again.

The only problem was that she no longer had a will. She had no direction, no purpose, no life, no force. So she sat here, staring into her glass, trying to fill her mind with tiny bubbles and sloshing red liquid.

"You're supposed to drink it, kid," the sharp voice of the bartender jarred her out of her blank stare. She glanced up at him quickly, meeting his eyes for only a moment before she nodded, swigged the whole glass, slapped credits down on the bar and shoved her stool away from the bar. She didn't notice the bartender shaking his head at her as she glanced longingly at the pazaak tables before turning toward the door.

As she stepped outside a cold blast of air hit her in the face and she pulled her coat up around her cheeks. She hunkered down into her coat as she fought against the wind. It pulled at her hair, stinging her unprotected forehead making her move faster to seek warmth.

Her small ship sat in its docking bay, its residence for the last three weeks and she relished the warmth of the ship's slightly stale air as she climbed the ramp, but it didn't take long for another kind of cold to begin creeping over her. She found her bunk, curled up with a pillow and trying desperately to not think, she cried thought free tears as she willed herself to sleep.

It had been seven years since she followed Revan to war, four months since she had destroyed Malachor V and three months since she had gone to the Jedi Council for forgiveness and had been exiled. She could have survived being exiled if she had not chosen the moment of hearing her sentence to reach out to the force again and found it missing. Gone. She had glared suspiciously at her judges, wondering if they had cut her off from the force. She might have believed it, if it weren't for Kavar. Kavar's eyes met hers and she saw him grieve at her realization of what they had all already seen in her.

When she left the Jedi Temple that day, she walked without direction, without thought, just knowing that she had to get away. She found herself at a shipyard and bought a small Sluissi ship, stocked with enough provisions to get her out of Republic space and she flew.

She stopped only for fuel until she had gotten so far beyond the outer rim that her hyperspace maps were useless. She finally landed on this backwater planet with its small human colony, meaning to update her hyperspace maps, but that had been three weeks ago. The small port didn't have any additional routes and she found herself not wanting to backtrack just yet. So she had spent the last few weeks wandering aimlessly around the town, avoiding as much direct contact with locals as possible, but something in her was craving contact with people again. In the three months since she'd left Coruscant she hadn't had a conversation that she could remember and hadn't said more than a few words to anyone.

So as she lay in her bunk, pillow clutched to her chest, the cold loneliness of a life without the order, without the soldiers and without the force pressed down upon her. She had never been alone before. Even when she had been on solitary missions in the far reaches of the galaxy she had carried her friends with her. And now they were gone. Some had fallen during the war with the Mandalorians; many more had died on Malachor. And with their deaths, the force had abandoned her taking any surviving friends with it.

This punishment was what she deserved, she knew, though bearing it was torturous. In the months that had passed she'd also come to the realization that she'd had no other choice on Malachor and that if she were there again, she would give the command again. The knowledge did little to absolve her of her guilt though.

She wondered briefly for the thousandth time why the force had left her alive at all – if this could be called life. She felt dead and she could only hope that her body would realize it soon.

She awoke to sunlight streaming in through the small viewport over her bunk. Another morning had come, whether she had wanted it to or not. So she drug herself out of the bed, pulled her boots and coat on and headed down her ship's ramp, toward the village's small marketplace. She had a meal, bought some groceries and browsed the small store's meager selection for the umpteenth time.

The clerk watched her silently from his post, as she ran her hands over the same supplies she had every day since her arrival here. So far, she had bought only perishables, but every day, she would gaze wordlessly at the tools, farming implements and other odds and ends that were on display here. It was as if she was looking for something, but didn't know what. She never spoke to anyone though, and never made eye contact, even when she paid for her supplies. He resolved to try to change that today.

As she placed her fruit on the counter and began digging for credits, he took a deep breath and began, "I just got a crate of odds and ends in yesterday," he said, his words startling her enough that she glanced up to his face. His features were unremarkable, but when their eyes met she saw something there and she couldn't help but try to reach out with the force and know what lay behind them, but as always, it was gone. Her sudden frown made him unsure, but he continued anyhow, "It's usually just junk, but I thought you might like to see if there's anything in there that interests you…." His voice trailed off as he wondered why he had even brought it up.

She nodded almost imperceptibly and he reached under the counter, bringing out the small crate. "My supplier always includes a box like this in my regular shipments. No idea where he gets this junk, but there's usually something interesting enough to pay for them. He opened the box and she glanced into it, wondering at its contents. There was a small box of Corellian cigars, which the clerk snatched with a grin, a few pieces of what she could only assume was art from some far away world, some beautiful silk scarves from Alderaan and a collection of holovids, most of which she had already seen on her long trip through hyperspace. As she continued rifling through its contents with the clerk she noticed something small and white in the bottom of the case. She picked it up, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the crystal.

"What is it?" the clerk asked her, breaking her trance.

Her eyes flicked to his and then back to the crystal again, willing herself to feel the power she knew was emanating from it, but she felt nothing. "It's a lightsaber crystal," she said quietly as she ran her fingers over it again.

The clerk studied her for a moment, "Are you ok?" he asked puzzled, as her cheeks flushed a rosy, healthier color than he had yet seen them.

She nodded as she set the crystal back down in the box abruptly. She hadn't been able to feel the force radiating from it, but the crystal had still affected her as if she should have been able to.

"It's yours for 50 credits," he said a little too nonchalantly as he watched the color drain from her face, trying to get her to pick it up again.

"It's worth much more than that," she said quietly as she shook her head and continued, "but I'm going to have to pass this time." She smiled sadly, fished a box of fine chocolates out of the crate, and paid for her purchases. Before she turned to go, she glanced up at the young man once last time and quietly said, "Thank you," before she pushed her way out into the snow packed street.

She dropped her groceries at her ship and made her way to the same bar she had sat in every afternoon for the last two weeks. She sat in her usual spot at the bar and ordered her usual Corellian Brandy from the bartender as she set her credits on the counter.

"No." He said gruffly, without explanation.

Vashti blinked, and her eyes scanned the bottles on the back of the bar. The same bottle she had been drinking from for the last week was sitting there, half full. "I'm sorry?" she questioned him.

"I said, no, you cannot have a Corellian Brandy." With that he poured her a glass of the cheap juma juice most of his other patrons drank and pushed it in front of her.

She stared at the glass for a moment, its sweet smell bringing not so distant memories to mind of her ship's mess hall filled with bawdy soldiers, gathered round her, drinking and joking. She shook her head and pushed the glass away willing the memories away with it.

"Look, kid," the bartender said abrasively, "every day for the last two weeks you've come into my bar and ordered the most expensive drink in the house. Only to sit and stare at it until you finally decide to leave and chug the whole thing in one swig. I can't in good conscience continue letting you spend all your credits only to degrade such a fine liquor that way. If you are going to treat it like swill, you might as well be drinking the swill." As he finished, he pushed the glass of juma back at her.

A small chuckle welled up in her chest at the man's lecture, "well, when you put it that way," she took the glass he offered her and drained it in one quick gulp.

He smiled saying, "My name's Mac, by the way, and that's Lou over there running the Pazaak tables." He took her glass and refilled it. "Have another," he said with a wink as he tucked her credits into his pocket, "you've got ten more glasses to go before you've spent this."

She chuckled again as she raised the second glass and took a slow sip, glancing over at the pazaak tables. The bartender, leaned over the bar next to her and yelled, "Lou, I believe our young friend here would like to play." And he pushed her off the barstool in the direction of Lou, but she stopped and shook her head. "I haven't played in a while…and I was never any good…" she offered as an excuse for her hesitancy.

"Then they'll love having you to play with, miss, what with your free flowing credits and all."

"Fine, deal me in." she said with only a little conviction as she made her way over to the tables, fishing her deck out of a long forgotten pocket.

She played for hours, losing much more than she won, slowly loosening up with the men around her. She stumbled to her ship in the wee hours of the morning and collapsed on her bunk. For the first time in months, she slept because she was tired and not just to escape.

A week later, she sat at the bar in the cantina, staring into her glass again. She had spent most of the last week here, but in spite of the constant presence of people around her, the loneliness had only abated slightly, and even that small relief was beginning to fade.

"You need a job." The bartender said gruffly as he set another glass in front of her, apparently ignoring the fact that she hadn't even taken a sip of her current drink.

"Why? I don't need the credits," she said quietly, avoiding eye contact.

"No, of course you don't, you're a wealthy heiress!" he said in a provoking tone.

She chuckled, "No, I receive a pension from the Republic for my service in the... war."

She finished almost inaudibly, and the bartender studied her for a moment, she was so young and timid. He found it hard to believe that she could have possibly been involved in a war, much less been important enough to receive a pension upon retirement at such a young age. But her eyes confirmed her story. They had seen untold horrors and her grief was too visible to anyone who bothered to look there.

"It's not much," she continued, "but it's more than I could ever spend out here."

"You still need a job." He stated again, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're bored, miss. You may not need the credits, but you need something to keep you busy."

She arched her eyebrows at the idea, "Hmm, you're probably right, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, the only thing I need around here is a dancer, but somehow you don't seem the type."

She laughed suddenly, her eyes sparkled with amusement for a brief second before the darkness settled back on them. "Too bad," he thought to himself, "she'd make a great one."

She considered him for a moment, "I've never danced before." She stated almost as if she was considering his job offer.

"I'm sure you'd do fine, it's not like it's Coruscanti Theatre or anything. I haven't had a dancer in here for a couple of months so the men will just be glad to have something to look at again."

Her eyes brightened again as she remembered her one brief flirtation with exhibitionism in the mess hall of her warship. "I suppose I'd have to wear some skimpy costume…" she said with a sigh.

"Yeah, that's how it's generally done. I have one in back from one of the old dancers, it'd probably fit you… the pay is 50 credits a night plus whatever you can pull in tips."

She snorted at the meager salary. "Well, that'd pay for my drinks at least." She said with a roll of her eyes.

He grinned wryly and said, "The tips are where the money is, my last dancer pulled in several hundred credits on busy nights, and she wasn't anywhere near the looker you are." The color drained from her face for a moment as she glanced up at him, noticing his amused expression at her discomfort. He shook his head at her, "Never mind." He said after a moment of studying her crossing his arms over his chest, "If you get that uncomfortable with a small compliment, I don't think you could pull it off."

She stared into her glass of juma for a moment, surprisingly riled by the challenge implied in his words. "When do I start?" she asked with a grin.

* * *

She cursed quietly to herself as she tried for the fourth time to work the clasp on the back of this "contraption" they called a costume. She had spent the last day trying to prepare herself physically and emotionally for this crazy job. She was beginning to wonder why she had even agreed to do it in the first place. Although, she had enjoyed the highly puzzled look on the face of the clerk in the general store when she had added razors, all sorts of hair paraphernalia and other beauty supplies to her usual order. It occurred to her now that most of his puzzlement probably came from the fact that she had bought most everything they had whether it was appropriate for her or not, hoping that she could figure out how to use some of it.

She had spent much of the night trying to figure out what to do with her hair. She hadn't cut it in years and there was too much of it to do anything too fancy she realized after hours of curling, washing, braiding and unbraiding, she finally resolved to just leave it in a long, loose braid that hung down her back. She noticed now as she wrestled into the bottom part of her costume that her braid was going to be getting caught in the belt of this ridiculous outfit. She tossed her braid over her shoulder instead then and when it settled between her breasts, she growled and wrapped it around her neck once. She began to chide herself for giving the enemy such an easy weapon against her before she realized with a snort that she shouldn't be facing any enemies tonight.

Mac poked his head into the dressing room as she was staring at herself in the mirror, unsure what to think about her transformation.

"You look great, kid," he said gruffly. "It's now or never."

"Is it too late for never?" she asked with a chuckle.

"Yep, sure is." He said with a grin. "Come on."

He stepped out onto the stage and began announcing her to the crowd, which seemed larger tonight than usual. Apparently the word that she'd be dancing had spread quickly and they'd all come to see her.

She took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage after his introduction and seeing the crowd for the first time she suddenly wondered what the hell she was doing up here. She'd never danced and hadn't really rehearsed anything, just assuming she would be able to wing it once she got up here. What was worse was that the stares of so many men made her queasy. For the first time, she thanked the force that she couldn't feel the emotions currently rolling off the men in this room. She hesitated, suddenly horribly self conscious and unsure what to do that wouldn't look ridiculous.

Then she spotted a man in the front row with a force pike strapped to his back and knew immediately how she was going to survive this fiasco. She smiled at the crowd as she sauntered down the stage toward the armed man and gracefully leaned toward him. She locked eyes with him and with her right hand grazed his cheek with her fingertips as a distraction. Her left hand reached over his shoulder slowly, as if reaching for the nape of his neck. In a flash, however, she managed to unfasten his pike and winked at the man as she backed toward the center of the stage, spinning the staff casually. When the music started, she moved gracefully through her combat training exercises, fighting imaginary enemies with kicks, punches and thrusts of the pike. After a few minutes, she didn't even see them anymore, concentrating fully on making her body conform to the exercises it knew so well, yet didn't know at all without the force coursing through her.

When the song finally finished some minutes later she froze for a moment in her final pose, crouched on her left leg, her right leg extended and the pike spinning over her head. Her skin glowed with perspiration, her breathing heavy. She slowed the spin and brought it to her side straightening her body again. She noticed for the first time the entranced stares and agape jaws of her audience. She bowed shyly and handed the pike back to its owner with a smile and mouthed a grateful "thank you," before she turned and walked off the stage. That's when the applause started, loud and thunderous. Her breath caught in her chest and a surge of adrenaline rushed over her.

"That was one of the most… arousing… performances I have ever seen," Mac said bluntly with a lecherous grin, "but you're not going to get many tips that way…"

"I'm… sorry…" she stuttered, unsure of herself suddenly.

"Sorry?" he questioned her with an amused look, "you're the one not getting the tips, kid, no skin off my nose, and I haven't had a crowd like this in here in years. I can't even imagine what it will be like tomorrow night… if you're up for another night."

"Let's see if I make it through tonight, shall we?" she said with a grin. "I have no idea what I'm going to do for my next number."

"Like it matters," he said gruffly as he turned and headed back towards the bar where his serving droid was being swamped by the crowd.

She threw a light robe on over her outfit, but didn't fasten it and followed him to the bar. She poured herself a glass of juma and began to wander through the cantina. Everywhere she went eyes followed her. It was unnerving. She decided to sit at one of the pazaak tables with some of her acquaintances, and passed the time between performances with a few games of pazaak. After one hand, a tall, muscular man sat beside her. She glanced at him and recognized him as the one who's weapon she had taken. She smiled warmly at him and he flashed her a charming grin as he raked his eyes across her body appreciatively.

"Hello, gorgeous, what are you doing after you get off work?" he asked without preamble.

She raised an eyebrow at him, "going to bed?" she replied, not sure why she added the questioning tone to her response.

"Well, I assumed that," he responded with a smirk as he moved closer to her, "I was just wondering who you would be taking with you." Her eyes grew large, dumbfounded by his suggestion. He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, "you didn't think you could move like that and not get offers did you?"

"Ummmm…" she stuttered, "I, uh, hadn't really thought about it…"

"Well," he cut her off confidently, "consider me the high bidder for your affections this evening," he said with a predatory grin as he slid 500 credits under her belt, his fingers grazing her stomach.

His touch unnerved her, but only for a moment. Before he had a chance to withdraw his hand, she had grabbed it and held it firmly in front of him. Once she would have been able to hold it there with the force, but now she had to rely on her physical strength to restrain the man. Fortunately, he wasn't struggling against her. She fished the credits out from her belt with her free hand and pressed them into the hand she held.

"I'm no whore, sir," She spat at him, releasing her grip upon him. "And I have no need for your _benevolence_." The whole room watched them now.

"Excuse me, miss," he chuckled at her fiery temper as he rubbed his wrist to bring back the circulation. "I meant no offense." With that, he stood, nodded at her and headed towards the bar.

When it came time for her next performance, she stepped a little more boldly onto the stage, though still not sure what she would be doing for this next dance. She glanced around at her audience for an inspiration and found her "benefactor" smiling up at her while holding a vibroblade by its edge, hilt pointed towards her. She couldn't help but smile as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt and took it from him, spinning it habitually in her right hand. The weight was different from her lightsaber, but the hilt felt right in her hand, experimentally she tossed it from her right hand to her left, spun it there and tossed it back.

She glanced down at the large man again and noticed an extra large smirk on his face as he pulled another shorter blade out of his coat and offered that one to her as well. Her eyes lit up as she greedily took the second weapon in her left hand. Suddenly she felt at home, she had always carried two lightsabers and while these blades lacked the familiar hum and balance of the sabers, they were supremely well made weapons, incredibly well balanced and she slipped without another thought into her combat stance. The music started and she began moving through another set of combat training exercises. This time, her rhythm matched the tempo of the music perfectly, each step, each feint, each thrust propelling her further into some crazy euphoria, the natural endorphins only heightened by the exposure of her flesh in this miniscule costume.

When the music stopped again, there was instant thunderous applause. She hesitantly handed the swords back to their owner with a bow, turned and walked off the stage. She was met backstage by Mac again, who just shook his head at her with a whistle, "I'll say one thing about you, you're the first dancer I've ever had that I didn't have to worry about not being able to defend herself from the creeps in this place."

She laughed merrily, "No, no need for that," she agreed as she tugged her robe back on over her outfit.

"One more performance tonight, I can't wait to see what you're going to do for this one."

"Me either," she chuckled to herself as he walked back out into the cantina.

She meandered again, drink in hand and felt drawn to the large man who had helped her twice tonight. He sat in a chair, relaxed, chatting casually with his companion, whom she recognized as the clerk from the store. His eyes met hers as she glided across the floor towards him. Stopping at the table, she briefly flashed a smile at the clerk before turning her attention back to the man that had drawn her to him from across the room.

"I can't wait to see what else you've got in that coat of yours," she said flirtatiously with a flash of a grin.

"Well, I offered to show you earlier, miss," he said, amusement in his voice, "but I believe you turned me down." He let his eyes run over her exposed flesh again, as her face paled suddenly at the realization of the double meaning of her own words.

"I, uh… meant… ummm…"

He laughed boisterously at her discomfort as the clerk broke in tentatively, "Rhyke is one of my suppliers," he said with a nod to the large man. "He fancies himself a weapons dealer, but sells more general supplies out here than anything." The clerk glanced up at Vashti and added as an afterthought, "He's the one that brought that box with the lightsaber crystal in it."

She flushed at the mention of the crystal and Rhyke's eyes shot to hers, she saw a sudden understanding in his eyes then, as a new confusion overtook them.

"Aren't you a little far away from the temple, Jedi?" he questioned her suddenly.

She gulped, shaking her head, and stammered, "no… I'm not a Jedi…"

"Sith then?" he questioned further.

She shook her head vehemently then, "no, just… not a Jedi… anymore."

His eyes told her that he had more questions but he remained silent, letting her try to find her comfort zone again. But it was too late, her hands fumbled with her now empty glass anxiously. And with a mumble about getting a refill, she turned from the man and quickly walked toward the bar.

Mac's expression soured when he saw the anxiety in her eyes. "He bothering you again, kid?" He said with a protective growl towards the table where Rhyke sat.

"No," she said with a shake of her head as she poured herself another glass of juma. He watched her skeptically when she offered no further explanation and headed over to the pazaak tables.

Later in the evening she stood backstage, trying to prepare herself for her final performance, wondering if the large man would have any other weapons for her, or what in the force she would do out there if he didn't.

She took a deep breath, and stepped onto the stage, relieved when she saw him standing in his usual spot, holding something up to her in his hand. Wordlessly she approached him and her eyes widened as he flicked the switch on the small item he held and a long thin lash dropped from the handle and began to glow with an energized hum. She shook her head at him quickly, she had never used a whip before, or anything like it, but he smiled at her reassuringly and pushed it toward her again.

She took it timidly, wondering what she was getting into. As the music started she found herself entranced with the glowing flexible lash and she tentatively began a combat sequence flicking her wrist as she thrust her arm forward. What would have been a simple strike with a sword, turned into a frenzied light show as the whip cascaded forward and then back on itself, crackling with power and energy. As the dance continued, her body began to mimic the fluidity of the whip. She turned and spun, the lash flowing gracefully around her, she couldn't take her eyes off it as she jumped and thrust, kicked and feinted.

When the music stopped she shut down the whip almost reluctantly and bowed for the last time to another round of thunderous applause. She stepped toward Rhyke and handed the whip handle back to him. He took it with an appreciative grin as her eyes shone vibrantly.

She turned and left the stage for the last time that evening and Mac met her once again. "Force, child! He exclaimed loudly, "that was… unlike anything I have ever seen."

"Me either," she said with a glowing smile, "I'm not even sure I knew a weapon like that existed before tonight."

"Well, you survived tonight… will you be performing tomorrow night?" he questioned her hopefully.

She nodded with a self satisfied smile agreeing silently before heading back to the dressing room.

When she emerged from the dressing room in her usual black cargo pants and heavy jacket she was almost unrecognizable as the lithe beauty that had occupied the stage that evening. She had re-braided her hair and pinned it into its usual coils on top of her head. She wandered into the cantina, her bag slung over her shoulder, and was almost surprised when all eyes didn't turn to her. She watched the room for a moment, then with quiet resolve, fastened her coat around her and pushed her way into the cold night.

She hunkered down inside her coat as icy wind prickled at her face. She wasn't really ready to go to bed, but she headed towards her ship anyway, her feet crunching in the snow. As she started up the ramp of her ship, a voice broke the silence of the spaceport behind her, "So you're really going to bed, then?" The now familiar voice said.

She turned with a smile, "That was the plan, yes."

"By yourself?" He asked with a grin as he walked over to her. She nodded and he scowled playfully. "Well, if you'd rather not head to bed just yet, how about joining me for a cup of caffa?" He gestured across the spaceport to the opposite docking bay where his small freighter sat. She considered him for a moment and then nodded as she descended her ramp and followed him to his craft.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This chapter is the second half of the original chapter 1. I decided that it was a little too overwhelming in once piece and broke it down into two. There have been a few minor edits, but is otherwise the same as it was. Chapter 3 is new though!

* * *

In spite of the fact that his ship was at least three times the size of hers, the main room was much more cramped than her own living space. Against every wall, crates were stacked, evidence of his apparently thriving trade. He escorted her to the small table in a corner with only a circular booth for seating and busied himself making the caffa as she slid into the booth.

"It's not often we see a woman of your skills out here," he chatted, breaking the silence, "most of our women are farmers, or cantina rats."

She chuckled softly, "at least I've not been declared a cantina rat, yet…well, not by you anyhow."

"After the performance you gave tonight, I think there aren't too many people out there who would dare to insult you, for fear of invoking your wrath." She grinned wryly as he set the mugs on the table in front of her, and finally removed his coat, draping it over a nearby crate with a heavy clank.

Her heart caught in her throat as his tight short sleeved shirt showed off his well muscled chest and arms. She quickly grabbed the cup of caffa and took a quick gulp in order to try to distract her from his suddenly overwhelming presence.

He slid into the small booth across from her, his knees brushing against hers as he tried to fold them into the cramped space. She gulped as the rest of her body froze involuntarily.

He shook his head at her in amusement, "So, I'm guessing all those rumors you hear about jedi being celibate are true…" She flicked her gaze up to his eyes and then quickly back down to her caffa, nodding. "Damn, that seems a shame…" he added nonchalantly.

She looked at him again, puzzled, "A shame? Emotional attachments are dangerous." She said as if from wrote memorization.

"Mmmm, that they are…" he agreed with a smirk as his fingertips lightly caressed her closest hand, "but," he continued with a grin, "what's that got to do with sex?"

She almost choked on her caffa in shock, "I… uhh…" she stammered with bewilderment as his rich laugh broke out again.

"One thing's for sure, I never thought teasing a jedi could be this much fun," he said over his mug.

"Ah," she said with a smirk, "You would be right there… if I were still a Jedi, I wouldn't be here for you to tease, would I?"

He harrumphed into his caffa, "I suppose not." A look of curiosity crossed his face and she could see the question forming on his lips.

"I was exiled," she blurted out before he could ask the question, "for following Revan to war." He nodded, another question forming on his tongue and she cut him off again. "I haven't felt the force since…Malachor" she said the last word so softly he almost couldn't make it out, but when he finally did the realization that she had been present at that nightmare of a battle shook through him. He gripped her hand comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," he said, unsure what else to say.

She shrugged helplessly. "I'm getting used to it." She said simply as he patted her hand. She shirked from his sympathy, however. "I'd rather be ogled than pitied." She added flippantly trying to lighten the mood back up.

He grinned, "Well, there's not much to ogle at the moment. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I'm not sure I'd believe you even had a figure underneath that bulky coat."

She smiled and provocatively unzipped the coat, shrugging it off her shoulders, revealing a tight, low cut, but otherwise utilitarian shirt.

"Mmm, that's a little better," he said in a low voice, but I was hoping you'd still have your dancing outfit on under there.

She laughed, "Nothing would convince me to wear that cold metal out in this weather."

"Again, a shame," he said as he ran his fingertips up her arm, placed his left hand on her thigh and leaned in close, "cold has such a nice enhancing effect on a woman's body."

Her eyes widened again as she tensed, her whole body flushed by his touch. She moved away from his hands nervously and started to pull her coat back on. "I.. think I need to go…" she stammered.

He chuckled and nodded as she fastened her coat up. "It's nothing to be afraid of, you know." He said to her as she started toward the ramp.

She hesitated for a moment and glanced back at him, wanting to explain, not wanting to leave, but unable to stay.

"Now I feel bad," he said with a small frown. "Let me walk you to your ship to make it up to you." Without waiting for her agreement he stood and pulled his own coat back on.

It clanked again as he knocked it against one of the crates in the cramped space and he grinned as he fastened his staff back into the holster on his back.

She raised an eyebrow at him, "We're just going across the dock. I really don't think you'll need your weapons."

"Ah, but I don't go anywhere without them." He replied, "Besides, you just hit the top of this crummy little town's most wanted encounter, and who knows what kinds of undesirables might be lurking out there, waiting to ambush you."

"I can take care of myself," she said proudly.

"I've no doubt you could fend off one or two attackers, easily, but anyone stupid enough to try to attack you, would likely bring friends, lots of them, and you're not even carrying a weapon."

"No," she said softly, "I've not carried anything since my sabers were taken from me."

He gave her a scathing look and then placing his hand on her shoulder directed her into the ship's main cargo bay. He stopped in front of a tall cabinet and opened it, revealing an extensive display of weapons ranging from knives to pikes. "Now, miss, what can I get for you today?" She stepped towards the arsenal and began to run her fingers lightly over each of the weapons, her fingers paused on a vibroblade much like one of the ones he had let her use tonight. Seeing her fingers pause, he took the blade and handed it to her. "Anything else I can get for you, ma'am? Another, shorter blade, perhaps?" He reached over and pulled out another blade and handed it to her. She grinned and he reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a handle of an energy whip and handed that to her as well.

"Looks like I just need a pike now," she said with a chuckle.

He looked at her for a moment and shook his head, "No, you need one of these." From the very end of the cabinet he pulled out a monstrous double bladed sword, as tall as she was, with a very sharp blade on each end, its central grip a soft leather. As soon as she picked it up she had to resist the urge to spin it due to the tight quarters. He grinned and nudged her to the door.

As soon as they were outside she shed her coat, the cold air blasting at her. She sprinted a few yards away, twisted towards him and started spinning the sharp blades in front of her, grinning at him predatorily.

He pulled his force pike out of its holster and dropping his own coat in the snow slipped into a combat stance returning her grin, silently daring her to make the first attack. She did, bringing the full force of her weight, strength and weapon downward toward his chest, he blocked it easily with his pike as she'd known he would, but what she hadn't expected was the jarring in her hands and elbows when their weapons collided. She grimaced in discomfort for a split second as she instinctively reversed the spin on her weapon and made a jab at his foot.

He knocked her blade off course with his pike and it stabbed into the icy ground and became stuck there. She was caught for a moment as she tried to wrench the blade from the ground and he spun around her quickly, aiming his staff for the back of her knees. She jumped, pushing her weight into her weapon, and instinctively tucked her legs into her chest rolling into a backwards flip. His pike slammed into the blade just as Vashti freed it from the ground. Her hands were still on the grip, and the extra momentum from his strike overbalanced her flip and she landed on her rump in the snow with a heavy thud.

She sat in the snow for a moment trying to catch her breath and figure out what had gone wrong. Rhyke crouched in front of her and offered her a hand. "A little different without the force?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice.

She nodded as she took his hand and they stood, "I knew I used it during combat," she said thoughtfully, "but I hadn't realized how much I used it to augment my strength and control my movements." She paused for a moment rubbing her elbows and shoulders where the impact had been greatest. "I've never been handicapped by being weaker than my opponent before."

He nodded with understanding, "You'll have to adjust your fighting style some. Try to take advantage of your size and quickness rather than manhandling your opponent. Remember, now you're mortal like the rest of us non-jedi," he said teasingly.

While he had meant his comment playfully he was instantly sorry when a darkness crawled over her expression. "I can assure you, Jedi are all too mortal," she said with an unbearable sadness, as the memory of their cries through the force on Malachor shuddered through her mind.

He reached out and touched her shoulder and she shied away from his sympathy once again. Shaking her head she leaned the double bladed sword against the ship and picked up the vibroblades she had laid there. She gripped their hilts tightly, trying to fight off the emotions that had suddenly welled up inside her. Her eyes dark, she turned back to him and flourished her swords.

The emptiness that emanated from her now was chilling and he settled into a defensive posture with his pike as much out of fear as of an unexplainable desire to meet her sudden need for physical expression of whatever this was that had settled on her.

She came at him again, with an intensity and focus to her attacks that had not been there before. The familiarity of the two weapons in her hands allowed her to forget what she was doing and she fought from pure reflex. Almost twenty years of training flowed through her now. With each attack she worked to drive away the invisible demons that were eating at her soul. With each parry, she felt her own strength lessening with exhaustion, but she fought on. She fought in spite of the failing of her defenses and the subsequent smacks of his pike on her body. Each impending bruise only made her fight harder, searching for holes in his defenses. When she found them she would strike with the flats of her blades repaying the physical beating she received.

Finally he raised his hand, in a plea to stop, doubled over, trying to catch his breath, his muscles screaming in protest at the lack of oxygen. She stopped then, her own body sore and shaking from exhaustion. She collapsed into the snow on her back thankful for the reprieve and looked up at the stars of this world for the first time. She was struck suddenly not by the number or brightness of the stars, but rather the darkness of the sky behind them. In her exhaustion filled mind the void between the stars sung a dirge of grief and emptiness that her own soul answered with a shudder of unimaginable longing.

His face appeared over her, blocking her view of the sky. The concern in his eyes made her want to scream, but the loneliness in her being craved his comfort. He crouched next to her and gently swept a loose piece of hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her jaw as he withdrew them.

He studied her face for a moment, then without a word, he offered her his hand. She took it and he helped her to her feet. She was shivering now from the cold as well as exhaustion and he picked up her coat and helped her into it. He picked up the weapons she had laid down and wrapping his arm around her waist protectively, escorted her to her ship.

She followed without vocal protest, but internally she was reeling. This was how it always happened. People were drawn to her and regardless of their initial intentions they instinctively protected her. Always before she had willingly accepted their attentions and reached to them through the force weaving a small part of their consciousness into her own. But it wasn't supposed to be like that anymore. Now that she was without the force, people weren't supposed to be drawn to her like this. And they certainly weren't supposed to be showing the early signs of an impending force bond, a bond she could not feel.

She let him guide her to her bunk and pull her boots off. She didn't protest when he started pulling damp clothes off of her, but when he stopped at her underwear and pulled her blanket up around her chin, she wanted to cry. He kissed her lightly on the temple and patted her shoulder. Getting up to go he finally broke the silence asking, "Are you gonna be all right here by yourself?" She nodded, a lump swelling in her throat. She didn't want him to go, but she didn't want him here like this either. With a sigh, he sat himself down on the bunk across from her and began removing his gear. She started to protest, but he shook his head at her as he curled up across from her. "You get some sleep. I'm just going to stay here to make sure you do."

She sighed heavily and nodded imperceptibly, closing her eyes and trying to surrender herself to the fatigue. He watched her until he noticed her breathing change, and then he let himself drift off to sleep as well.

He was awakened sometime later by frantic cries of distress. Disoriented, he jumped out of bed and reached for his weapon, trying to discern their origin. Vashti cried out again then, and an indiscernible plea for help left her sleeping form again. He touched her shoulder lightly, and her eyes sprang open meeting his.

"You were having a nightmare," he whispered. "Are you ok?"

She nodded, and closed her eyes again, he started to move back to his bunk, but as he did, she grabbed his hand and held him there. "Stay with me," she said in a quiet plea, pulling him closer, her eyes still closed.

Unable to deny her request he slipped into the bunk and wrapped his arms around her. As he held her close, they drifted off to sleep again.

When she woke, light was streaming in through the window and she knew that it had to be midday already. His arms were still wrapped around her and now with the fatigue of the night before gone, all that was left was the longing. His hand brushed her stomach sleepily and then he nuzzled her neck as his fingers followed the curve of her waist, and his hand cupped her breast gently. Her body responded eagerly to his touch and she gasped at the tingling thrill that shot through her body. She could tell he wasn't really awake yet, and she was afraid to breathe for fear that he would wake up and move his hand. Each breath she did take, though, altered his touch slightly and soon her breathing had quickened in spite of her fears.

He stirred again, squeezing her tightly to him and slipping his hand down her stomach again, burying his fingertips just below her waistline. She involuntarily moaned softly and pushed her hips against his hand. After the sensation died down she wriggled onto her back. His hand continued resting lightly on her abdomen as she turned to study his face.

Her eyes met his and as their eyes locked she thought she saw a flash of connection, she could almost feel him, almost read his thoughts and emotions and for a fleeting moment she thought that perhaps she could find her connection to the force somewhere in him.

He smiled, "Good morning, gorgeous." He whispered, his breath hot on her ear.

She trembled and tried to smile as he propped himself up on his right elbow and began running his left hand more deliberately over her body. Each curve he explored with his fingertips made her moan again, softly but instinctively. She rolled onto her side and pushed her hips against his longingly as she wrapped her arms around him, her fingers exploring every inch they could reach ravenously. Her mouth met his and she kissed him, probing his mouth gently, her tongue dripping with desire.

He paused, looking into her eyes, silently questioning if he should continue where his instincts were pushing him to go. She answered his unspoken question by tugging at his shirt impatiently.

Some time later, she lay with her head on his chest, breathing deeply. She relished the contact of his skin against hers as the lingering spasms of delight shuddered through her body.

"Thank you," she whispered softly. She received a deep chuckle in reply, as he pulled her tight against him. He whispered his reply, "Anytime."

She clung to the small shimmer of connection she felt. She realized now that it wasn't the force, but rather an after effect of the trust and vulnerability involved in this most primitive and instinctive act. No, it wasn't the force, but in this moment, it was good enough.

"Sith spit!" she cursed loudly as she stared at herself in the mirror in her dressing room.

Mac poked his head in to see what the problem was and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "What the hell happened?" He asked protectively as his eyes darted from bruise to bruise.

"Just a little sparring," she replied with a frown as she twisted to look at one particularly nasty bruise across her lower back.

"Sparring? I take it you lost?" He asked dryly.

"Nah, you should see the other guy," she smiled broadly remembering the red welts her hands had traced earlier in the day. "Of course, he doesn't have to try to wear this piece of cloth and twine in front of a room full of men tonight."

"Thank the force," Rhyke said as he entered the small room, handing her one of the glasses of juma he was holding and kissing her lightly on the cheek. "No one wants to see that"

Mac's eyes darkened at the large man's arrival and at the aura of familiarity between the two. He started to say something, but Vashti interrupted him, "Show Mac your side," she prodded the larger man playfully as she began braiding her hair.

He growled lightly at her but then smiled and obediently lifted his shirt, revealing a long red welt the width of the flat of a vibroblade that wrapped from his side to his back.

"You wouldn't think a blade could leave a mark like that, would you?" He smirked. "I've got others too, but you probably don't want to see them."

Mac stared at the pair evaluating them for a moment. The older man didn't really approve of this match, but at the same time, there was a light in her eyes that hadn't been there before. And he liked that. It was good for business. The bruises however, were not.

He frowned at her, "If you'd injected those spots with kolto right after you got them, they could have been prevented." He chided her as he headed out the door, "As long as you're working for me, I expect you to take care of yourself."

"Forgive me, master," she said reflexively then stifled a giggle as she realized what she'd said. "I will try to be more mindful in the future." She added with a snort, "but what should I do about them now?" she asked. "I tried makeup… but it just looks weird."

"You could paint yourself blue and braid your hair into lekku," Rhyke teased her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Any other brilliant ideas?"

"Wear them proudly." He said after a moment, "I think that's your only other choice."

In the end, that's what she did. She danced with the weapons with a fervency that hadn't been there the night before, all traces of nervousness gone. Her audience was captivated and as she finished her final bow for the evening, they showed her just how much they'd enjoyed it, cheering and stamping and chanting her name.

Afterward, she went back to her dressing room to change where Rhyke joined her. He ran his hands over her body, tracing each bruise with his fingertips, and sending a shiver up her spine. "I'm the luckiest guy here tonight… getting to do to you what they'll all be dreaming about in their beds." He kissed her slowly and deeply. His hands rested on her hips and he began to massage a spot just under her pelvic bone with his thumb. She let out a soft sigh of desire and then wriggled out of his grasp, and began working on pulling the long braid out of her hair. He sat in a chair near her, then, and occasionally his hand would reach out and gently caress one of her bruises.

"You wore them well," he said, "a testament to your heart of a warrior."

She blinked, his words too reminiscent of cries she had heard on the battlefields from her opponents, and for the first time, she was curious about this man's past. "You'd better be careful," she said playfully, "You're starting to sound like a Mandalorian."

"Mmm," he mumbled an agreement, "that's probably because I was raised by them."

She shot him a quick look, wondering if he knew who she was, trying to find the answer in his eyes. "I was an Onderonian orphan," he explained. "They took me in, taught me everything I know." He paused a brief moment, puzzled by the new darkness that hung over her. "They didn't like it much when I left to be a lowly merchant, but I went anyhow. Never could stomach all the killing they did."

Her own stomach clenched. She had killed more with one single order than any Mandalorian ever had. She fumbled with her hairbrush nervously.

His face showed his concern at her sudden change in demeanor, "I guess having fought in the war, you probably don't care much for them," he said, fishing for an idea of what was bothering her so badly.

She shook her head. "It's not like that.." she said quietly, "I…" she tried to explain but her jaw snapped shut and she just gave him a half hearted smile, her eyes pleading with him to not ask anymore questions.

He nodded, "It's all still too fresh, isn't it?" He stood and wrapped his arms around her, "You can tell me all about it one day." She buried her face in his shoulder, hoping he would take her silence for an answer.

"Take me home," she finally whispered in his ear, "make love to me," she said with a light kiss on his earlobe, "help me forget." She added in an almost inaudible whisper.

Hours later, he held her tight to his chest, their limbs still entangled, her breathing still irregular. He spoke in a low tone, "I have to leave tomorrow. I have a shipment I have to get delivered." He paused for a moment, his hand stroking her hair lightly. "Come with me," he added in a whisper. She tensed in his arms surprised at his invitation. He kissed her temple gently, "You didn't think I could stay here forever, did you?" he asked teasingly.

"I hadn't really thought about it," she answered quietly.

"Well, you've got a few hours to think about it and I'll be back in a week either way."

She clung to him then, confused by the conflict that had built up inside her. The fervency of her embrace was worrisome to him, but he held her tight and tried to reassure her with his touch.

Vashti woke early in the morning snuggled into his arms, the euphoria of the night's activities still hanging on her in a warm glow. She tried to go back to sleep, but there was a nagging in the back of her mind and slowly anxiety began to creep over her. She turned onto her side and looked at the sleeping man's face.

His strong jaw was covered in coarse stubble and her eyes traced a faint scar that ran across his forehead. He was beautiful. What drew her to him the most wasn't physical though, it was his brimming self-assuredness. In a lot of ways he reminded her of the Jedi Masters back at the temple. He knew his place in the world. She wished she could say the same about herself.

She wondered if he had any idea what had happened on Malachor. So many had died there, and she had been personally responsible for the most devastating war acts that anyone could remember. And more significantly at this moment, she was probably responsible for the deaths of people he cared about.

He had asked her to come with him, but she knew he didn't know what he was getting. No matter how much he had let her forget her past, it was still there, still such a huge part of who she was and sooner or later, he would know. And then he would feel betrayed because she hadn't told him in the beginning. Or at the very least told him last night when she'd found out he'd been raised by the people she had slaughtered.

She had come to these unknown regions to try to escape from her past, but it had caught up with her. It always would, she realized, as long as she still had breath. He stirred slightly under her gaze and she ached at the thought of letting him leave without her, but knew it was the best way.

His eyes flickered open, meeting hers sleepily. "You're staring at me." He mumbled.

She smiled softly. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," she said as she reached out and ran her fingers along the scar on his forehead. "You're just so beautiful." She added with quiet admiration.

He snorted, "I knew you were crazy, but I didn't know you were _that_ crazy…"

She let out a melancholy chuckle as she sat up and drew her knees up to her chest, "Oh, I'm much crazier than that, I can assure you." Sadness hung over her.

"So I take it you're not going with me then." He said in quiet recognition of her mood as he looked up into her eyes.

She shook her head, "I can't."

"Will you be here when I get back?" he asked her.

She shrugged, "I'm getting restless again. The people here are nice, but they expect things from me, things I can't give… yet."

He sat up and tilted her face up towards his staring into her eyes. "Then come with me." He saw the fear there as she gulped and tried to find words to explain.

"You don't even know my last name," she blurted out in frustration.

He chuckled, "Surely you don't think I would care about a name."

"It's Meres." She said quietly, watching his face closely for a reaction. Understanding slowly crept over his face. "Formerly, Jedi Knight Meres".

"_Hero_ of the battle of Malachor V," he added for her, "Destroyer of Mandalorians and Jedi alike." She knew that he was just repeating the titles that the holonet stories had given her, but coming from his mouth it sounded like a death sentence. Tears welled up in her eyes and she buried her face in her knees.

He reached toward her and stroked the back of her neck comfortingly. "Come with me." He repeated.

She shook her head again. "I can't," she repeated. "For a day I got to pretend I was someone else and be happy. But this void I carry inside me… You can't fill it. No one can."

"I can try," he said gruffly.

"And then it would destroy us both."

Hours later, she watched Rhyke as he made his final checks before take off. She wanted so badly to run up the ramp and throw herself into his bed, never to leave, but she just stood there, watching, waiting for the inevitable goodbyes.

He walked to her, "You're sure you won't come with me?" He asked her again. She nodded as he gave her an enormous hug. "I have something for you," he said as he fumbled in his pocket explaining, "Every dancer needs some jewelry." He handed her a small package made from a soft piece of fabric. As soon as she took it from him her cheeks flushed and her skin took on a more healthy glow. She untied the package revealing a golden armband with ornate scrollwork wrapped around the cloudy white crystal from the clerk's box. Her fingers ran over the lightsaber crystal lovingly. "I had one of the locals here set the crystal into it for you. You may not be able to carry a saber anymore, but that doesn't mean you can't carry a piece of your past with you into the future."

She threw her arms around him then, clinging to him desperately for a moment. "Thank you," she said softly, "I'll wear it always."

**12 years later, somewhere on the outer rim.**

Vashti sat in the noisy cantina, sipping her juma, reading her datapad. She had come to this planet to follow a lead she'd had about G0-T0's droid production factories, but so far the investigation had been fruitless. So she had come to the cantina to sit and think and feel the world around her, hoping that her mind could perhaps bump into a force sensitive and that the trip wouldn't be completely wasted.

She had gotten pretty good at picking them out of a crowded room, actually. It had been seven months since she had started her search for force sensitives and in those months they had recruited over 200 men and women of varying ages and races. They had been everywhere, she found, and it had become one of her favorite past times to sit in a cantina and read and scan the room mentally for a hint of an undiscovered force sensitive.

Most of the people in this particular cantina were uninteresting to her, but there was one mind, faint at first, that touched hers. She was surprised by it, because it wasn't quite like the mind of an untrained, but rather seemed to have more of the presence of one of her students, with whom she had already bonded. As she rubbed the golden armband she still wore under her robes absentmindedly, she explored the consciousness gently, trying to ascertain if it was one of her troops, here for some other reason, but it wasn't one of them. Each of her students had their own signature, almost like a voice in her mind. It was the bonding of the minds that allowed her to be able to distinguish between them so well. What puzzled her about this bond was that while the bond was there, she did not recognize the soul behind it.

Finally she looked up from her datapad, scanning the room for the source of this bond. When their eyes met, she knew him instantly. Rhyke crossed the room quickly and pulling her to her feet, snatched her to his chest, kissing her hair softly. Her heart leapt at his embrace.

"_What the hell was that?" _Atton's voice echoed sharply in her head.

"_Oh force,"_ she thought to herself , "_Atton's NOT gonna like this._


	3. Chapter 3

"_Not gonna like what?"_ Atton's sharp thoughts ran through her head even while her past lover's arms held her close.

"_Atton, hush" _she pushed across their bond_, "I'll explain in a minute," _though how she was going to explain this to him, she had no idea.

"_Screw that," _Atton cut in impatiently,_ "I'm coming down there."_ She took a deep breath and tried to extricate herself from the large man's arms.

"Rhyke," she said warmly as she stepped backwards out of his grasp and took his hands in hers, "it's been so long."

"I never thought I'd see you again." He said with bewilderment, "You look exactly the same."

She smiled at him brightly, "I do not," she argued playfully, "it's been 12 years and believe me, my age shows."

He studied her for a minute, "Nope, you look exactly the same. Same hair, same face, the only difference is there is a light in your eyes that wasn't there before."

Her face really lit up then, "It's the force," she whispered joyfully as if sharing some long forgotten secret, "I can feel it again." He gazed into her eyes, entranced by her stunning glow. Her eyes met his and while she prodded his mind gently for something to make sense of their bond, his left hand broke free from her grasp and he ran his fingertips over her cheek lightly as his right hand ran up her arm and paused over the armband he could feel even though it was not visible.

"You still wear it," he said quietly, as Vashti tensed slightly only breaking the trance when a dark shadow of barely controlled rage pummeled them from the direction of the door. She stepped back quickly then, out of his reach and turned toward the door, trying to give Atton a reassuring smile. He crossed the room menacingly, willing a wall between the pair.

_Wear what? _His sharp voice echoed her in head as he stopped just inches from Vashti and looked at her expectantly for some kind of explanation.

_My Armband,_ she answered him quickly without explanation. "Atton," she began audibly with a nervous chuckle, "this is Rhyke," she paused, trying to figure out how to describe their past relationship, "a… friend… from my exile." She finally spit out. "Rhyke," she continued with the formal introduction, "this is Atton, my…," she paused a moment, suddenly unsure how to describe their relationship, "partner." She finally concluded unable to find a better word. Atton shot her a look of irritation and broke in.

"Nice to meet you," he said as he shook the man's hand firmly, letting a tiny amount of force energy trickle uncomfortably through the handshake. "Vashti and I are always glad to meet _old_ friends, aren't we babe?"

Rhyke wiggled his fingers in discomfort after Atton released his grip. "_Atton, what in the force are you doing?"_ Vashti hissed at him through their bond. _"You're acting like a child." _Atton ignored her and continued, "You know, just last night _in bed_ she was telling me just how nice it was to be able to resolve all these things from her past…" Vashti lowered her face into her palm and just waited for him to finish, "and then here you show up. Isn't that something?"

"Atton," she finally said audibly shoving her half empty glass of juma into his hand, "why don't you have a drink and a seat. I'll go get us more." She turned her attention to the larger man and commanded, "Sit, I'll be back in a second."

He sat dutifully as he scanned the younger man appraisingly. "I should have known she wouldn't be single even as a Jedi," he said after a moment, "she's too much of a Cathar in the sack to be alone long."

Atton nearly choked on his Juma at the other man's words. "You know you're right about that," he replied, "the other night, she put me into stasis and…"

"Atton!" Vashti's voice cut into the conversation. "I'm sure Rhyke has no interest in hearing about our sex life."

"He brought it up," Atton mumbled quietly.

She shook her head and handed him a full glass of Juma, "Drink and hush," she ordered him, "or if you can't do that, head on back to the _Runner_ and I'll be along after a while."

Atton frowned grumpily and started in on his drink, glowering at the older man.

"You'll have to excuse Atton," Vashti said cheerfully as she handed a drink to Rhyke and sat back in her chair, "he's very used to having to fend off unwanted attentions towards me from the men… and sometimes women… we recruit." She smiled warmly, "It is a hazard of using the force to bond to people, they tend to misconstrue that connection as something more… intimate."

Rhyke considered her a moment, "Mmmm, I remember that connection quite well," he said matter of fact.

"So!" She cut him off before he could say anything else that might rile her partner up, "What have you been up to the last 12 years?"

"Same old stuff, flying from colony to colony making deliveries," he spoke as though bored with his own fate in life, "sounds like you've had some adventures, though."

She nodded, "Well, the ten years I spent outside republic space went about the same as when you knew me." She said, "Fly to a new place, ramble around town for a while sometimes working sometimes not, eventually leave when I got restless again."

"Two years ago, though, I received a message from the Republic asking me to return and help them. And that began the whirlwind adventures."

"Yeah," Atton broke in, "That's when she came into my life in her underwear."

"Ah, yes," Rhyke said with a gleam in his eye, "the first time I ever saw her was in her dancing costume." He smiled appreciatively at the memory.

"Dancing costume?" Atton questioned her sharply, "What dancing costume?"

She exhaled with exasperation, "the one I wore when I danced during my exile, dear. What did you think I wore? Jedi robes?"

"Huh," he said in bewilderment, "I guess I always assumed the stories of you dancing in your exile weren't really true. You never really talked about it."

"Nope, I can verify she did indeed dance, and she was amazing." He grinned, "Luckiest day of my life. When she got that determined look in her eye and came at me all seductively and stole my pike."

"Your pike…" Atton said flatly, his jaw tense.

The man chuckled, "Yep, snatched it right off my back."

"I just did some combat training exercises," Vashti broke in, "I didn't know what else to do. It wasn't anything you haven't seen a thousand times."

"Except you were in a dancer's outfit," Atton interjected.

"Also something you've seen," she added. Atton gave her one of those "well I guess you got me there" looks and she continued, "Anyhow, some crazy droid tried to kidnap me and drugged the crap out of me, and when I woke up, I could feel the force again."

"I spent the next year and a half or so chasing around the galaxy with this nerf herder," she said affectionately as she rubbed Atton's knee, "and a shipful of other miscreants… most of whom are my students now. For the last seven months we've been trying to recruit force sensitives to our academy for training."

"Why?" he asked her bluntly.

"Most of the Jedi Order was destroyed in the Jedi Civil War," she said quietly, "Those that did survive scattered in all directions. Unfortunately, we believe that there is a war looming on the horizon, one that will be fought through the force. So, we are building an army to fight it."

"Huh," he said contemplatively, "So is that why you're all the way out here?"

"Well, sorta," she hesitated, "We're currently looking for a droid production facility we believe to be out here somewhere… we received reports of large shipments of plasteel being shipped out of this port, but so far we've not gotten anyone to talk to us about it."

"That's my shipment," he said gruffly, "what do you want to know about it?"

Vashti's pulse quickened at his admission, "Well, we just need to know where it's going… and a way to get inside once we get there."

"Why's that?"

Vashti shifted uncomfortably, not sure how much she should share, "We just need information, honestly." She tried to explain, "We have a certain "acquaintance" that we believe runs that factory and we need to try to find out more about him."

"G0-T0?" He asked.

Her eyes lit up, "Yep, that's the one."

"I hate that droid," Rhyke mumbled, "but the money's good, so I keep making the deliveries."

"Yes, unfortunately, though, G0-T0 chooses to wield undue influence over us by the use of threats. Last month he was able to kidnap three of my students only letting them go when I promised that I would take another one of his droids with me to spy on us."

"Kidnap three Jedi?" Rhyke asked in amusement, "that's quite a feat for a droid."

"Mmm, yes, he had the services of a force sensitive Mandalorian bounty hunter who has a talent for sneaking up on Jedi undetected."

Rhyke looked confused, "Force sensitive Mandalorian? That's a new one."

"Aye, Drex is a unique young man. We look forward to him joining our ranks."

"He's joining you?" He pondered it a moment. "You know, you get older and you think you have the galaxy figured out, and then something like this happens and turns everything you know upside down."

She chuckled with a nod, "Yes, the force surprises me regularly. It brought us here to this dead end, and then we found you." Her face became bright with the joy of finding a long lost friend. "You will help us get into the factory, won't you?" She asked him hopefully. He nodded in agreement, glad to have her nearby him again.

* * *

Mira paced up and down the entrance hallway to the hangar bay. He was finally arriving. She had expected him to arrive two weeks ago, shortly after she had returned from their fateful trip to Nar Shaddaa., but he hadn't shown. He hadn't sent any word on his expected arrival either, so Mira had begun to fear that he had changed his mind about joining them. But he had just comm'd them requesting permission to land.

She pressed her robes to her body and suddenly wished she'd taken the time to run by her quarters and change. He had only ever seen her in her hunting gear… which was designed especially to highlight her _assets_. The robes she wore while in the academy were loose, comfortable and less distracting for the recruits, but they did nothing to flatter her figure. Ah, well, there wasn't time to change now anyhow.

She stared into the distant sky through the force field of the hangar bay and remembered how he'd looked when she'd seen him last. The first thing she remembered was his infuriating smirk. It wasn't the slight smile itself that was so infuriating, but rather the gleam in his stormy grey eyes.

**3 Weeks Ago, Nar Shaddaa Red Light District**

His lips tasted of brandy and cigars. His kiss was gentle and firm and she loved the way his muscular arms curled around her waist. Someone in the crowd jostled them trying to get to the bar breaking their kiss.

"So what is it about your group that makes you so different from regular Jedi?" he asked.

"Well," she started slowly, trying to figure out how best to put it. "Vashti and a few others were raised as regular Jedi at the temple on Coruscant, but the rest of us… well… Vashti found us, drew us to her, taught us to use the force… consciously at least." She paused a moment. "Like you, most of us had used the force to some degree without realizing we were, but Vash put a name on it, opened up our connections to it and taught us to wield it."

"So, you're not typical Jedi because you weren't raised in the temple," He pondered. "What's Vashti's excuse then?" he asked gruffly.

"Well, the easiest way to explain it would be to make you understand that Vashti, herself, is not a Jedi anymore."

"Mmmm," he mumbled, "A Sith then?"

"No," Mira answered, "It's more complicated than that, actually." She took a long swig of her brandy and tried to find another way to express it. "Vashti is not force sensitive anymore," she finally stated, firmly, simply.

"How can that be?" Drex contradicted, "She showed me the force today."

Mira nodded, "Yeah, that's where it gets to the "not typical" part." She took another drink, "Malachor V damaged her," she said softly. "She could no longer feel the force after dealing with all the deaths there. She spent the next ten years without the force. When she returned from her exile, she found she could use the force again, but it was different than it had been. Vashti can't feel the force herself, but what she does is forms bonds with others, that allow her to manipulate the force through them."

"Bonds?"

"Mmmm," Mira mumbled unsure how to answer that question, "force, I'm starting to sound like you now!" She grinned at him. "I really can't explain the bonds… You'll have to have Vash do that herself. It's just that she somehow manages to connect to the force through these bonds. She has one with all of her students to some degree and if she spoke to you today she's probably begun to form one with you as well."

His face became stony, "I'm not sure I like the idea of that," he mumbled.

"It's not so bad, really." Mira tried to explain, "It's not really a conscious thing, but the important thing to remember, what makes us not typical Jedi, is that our leader isn't a celibate old man. She needs people around her to fuel her connection and those connections make her vulnerable to all sorts of emotions."

"So why isn't she celibate?" He asked bluntly.

Mira cackled, "She tried to be for a while, but it didn't end well. We were practically begging her to jump Atton at the end. It is **very** difficult to be bonded to someone who's swimming in that many hormones. She might have had better luck if she hadn't given it up in her exile, but she did."

"So then," he said slowly, "She doesn't expect others to do what she won't." Mira nodded. "That's a great idea," he continued, "but you can't run an army that way." The surprise was visible on her face as he added, "Giving people the all clear to screw like gizka only creates dissention within the units. Someone is going to get hurt."

Mira pondered that a moment, "Yes," she finally answered, "it can have a very negative impact at times. The hardest part is usually when the new recruits start to fall in love with her."

He choked on his drink, "Love?" he questioned with a chuckle.

"Aye," Mira confirmed with a grin, "They almost all do." She drank, "in some way or another."

"So you've got an army full of men you're teaching to be powerful Jedi that are all going to wind up in a fight for her attention. That sounds like a bomb about to go off" He chuckled.

"Yeah, you'd think so. But it seems to be working out ok so far. But that's probably because she is very clear on what the relationship will be. Keeping Atton close by helps too. Helps them not get their hopes up, anyhow."

"Atton was the one she was dueling in that vid you have?" He questioned her.

"Yep, that's him! I honestly have no idea what she sees in him, but from the second I joined the crew you could practically smell the attraction between them."

He chuckled while shaking his head. "I've dealt with my share of Jedi. Can't say I ever cared for them, though. Arrogant bastards, the lot of them."

Mira nodded gravely, "Yeah, I never cared for them either. Of course, not many of those Jedi survived. There are a few, but they're being overrun now by us and I'm not sure Vashti will let them take over again. Force, I hope not," she finished with a laugh.

"Well," he said with a gleam in his eye, "if we get too tired of them, we can always join Mandalore's army and make strong Mandalorian babies."

Mira choked on her drink. "Babies!?" she exclaimed flabbergasted, "Babies??"

"Why else would I take a wife, but to have strong babies?" he responded in amusement.

"WIFE!?" She practically yelled.

"You did accept my proposal," he teased, "you are bound by clan law now!"

She laughed, "Yeah, but who's gonna enforce it? You? I'd like to see you try."

He grinned widely now, "I think I have shown my ability to enforce it if I need to, but I still think you'll come around."

"Delusional," She shook her head as she mumbled something into her glass.

"Mmmm, we'll see." He turned toward her and considered her for a moment then pulled her off her barstool and pulled her closer to him. He placed his hands on her hips and gazed into her eyes.

"His eyes are so stormy," she thought to herself as her eyes became lost in his Her pulse raced and her whole body began to tingle warmly. She leaned forward to kiss him as he pulled her tight to him. She kissed him hungrily and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to have his babies.

It was when she began thinking of names for their possible future rugrats that her mind became clear again and she almost violently broke the kiss.

"Would you cut that out!" she bellowed at him as she snatched her drink off the bar.

The sparkle in his eyes was almost intolerable, "Cut what out, miss?" he drawled with a self assured smirk.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!" she exclaimed. "How the frack you manage it is beyond me, but those were NOT my thoughts!"

"Mmmm," he mumbled his disagreement with a smirk.

"Force, there you go again…" She rested her head in her hands, still trying to calm the pounding in her chest and the tingling of every nerve end.

"How the hell do you do that?" She finally asked after her body had returned closer to it's natural state.

"Do what, miss?" He asked again with a chuckle as she reached out and slugged his shoulder.

"So, have you always seduced your lovers this way?" She finally asked, not looking up from her drink for fear of meeting his gaze again.

He laughed, "Not all of them, no, but a few, yes. It's all part of the hunt."

"Well, stop it!" She exclaimed. "I'd rather be able to have my own thoughts, not yours!"

"Mmmm, it's been my experience, miss, that I cannot place any thoughts into my quarry's head. I can only intensify the emotions and instincts that are already there.

"Oh force," she glanced up at him now then quickly looked back at her glass when her eyes met his. "You're a pain in the ass."

He laughed boisterously then and lay his hand on her knee as he spoke, "You don't have to hide from me, miss. I just wanted you to get a taste of the possibilities of following through on your vow. I'll be good now."

She glanced up at him again and the storms had been replaced with mirth. She smiled up at him tentatively and his smirk broke into a full grin just as her com buzzed and Dustil's tinny voice informed her that they were ready for departure.

* * *

Now Mira couldn't keep from grinning as Drex's small ship entered the hangar. After he landed she waited in anticipation for the ramp to lower and for him to appear. When the ramp did finally lower, though, he did not emerge. She stood and waited wondering if he was waiting for her to come inside the ship or if he was just taking his time.

She shifted impatiently wondering if she should enter the ship to look for him. Finally she reached out to the force to see if she could sense him, but he wasn't there. He was hiding… The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she waited, knowing he could be anywhere. She knew almost instinctively that he had to be nearby and he was playing a game with her. She tried to listen to the empty air around her for some sign of him. Breathing, footsteps, anything.

Suddenly she heard his deep voice drawl, "Gotcha," as his arms wrapped around her stomach from behind and his mimicker deactivated. She shrieked loudly in spite of her anticipation, or maybe because of it, as he picked her up off the ground and spun around quickly, her legs kicking in the air.

"Put me down!" She ordered him loudly.

"Mmmm, now what would be the fun in that?" He said in a low voice in her ear. She giggled in spite of herself but stopped it abruptly as he set her lightly on the floor and spun her so that she was facing him. Their eyes met and her face lit up even more than it had been. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him lowering his mouth to hers in a hungry passionate kiss.

"Ahem," Mical cleared his throat audibly after a moment, trying to alert the two liplocked bounty hunters turned jedi to his presence. Mira broke the kiss and stepped out of Drex's arms, trying to fight off a blush as she ran her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," Mical broke in tentatively, "I heard that Drex had arrived and Vashti asked me to help you get him settled in and see about getting a training regimen started for him since she couldn't be here. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Mira smiled patronizingly at Mical, "Wonderful," she said sarcastically before turning back to Drex, "This is Mical," she said in a dry introduction, "he's Vashti's right hand man, and is gifted in all things administrative."

Mical shot her an irritated look as he stepped forward and held out his hand to the large man in front of him. "Someone has to make sure the schedules are set," he said tiredly as if weary of his role.

"Don't let him fool you," Mira half whispered with a grin, "He loves ordering us all around."

Mical's smile broadened considerably. "Ah, now that is true," he said with a brighter tone.

Drex shook the blond man's hand firmly, "I think I saw you on one of Mira's vid's," He said in a pondering tone, "I didn't quite expect you to be this tall."

Mical smiled as he turned toward hangar exit, "Ah yes, Mira's always got that camera running… She especially likes to hide it in the 'freshers, so watch out." Mira blushed a beet red as Mical grinned sadistically, "Well, let's show you to your quarters, shall we?"

* * *

Vashti stood at the workbench in the _Shadow Runner_, her lightsaber in pieces.

"So why didn't you ever tell me about this guy?" Atton asked her almost accusatorily.

"I've told you many times about my physical relationships in my exile," she said flatly.

"Oh, sure. You told me about those, but I think I'd have remembered if you'd mentioned half the things he told us about it."

"Atton," she sighed, "It was a long time ago. I never expected to see him again. Honestly, I haven't even thought about him in months."

"Except that every day you put on that armband he gave you!"

She was silent for a moment, "Atton, what is it you want me to tell you?" She paused, "That I had stashed away this memory to keep it from you? Twelve years ago I did fall in love with him, but I also chose to turn my back on him."

"And you've regretted it ever since," he sneered.

"No," she said quietly, "I miss what might have been at times, if I had agreed to go with him. But I didn't go for a reason. I was broken and nothing he could do would have made me happy. I had to grieve."

Atton stewed for a moment and then blurted out, "And why the hell did you introuduce me as your "partner"? It makes it sound like we're in business together or something."

"What would you have preferred I use?" She asked with a sigh. "Boyfriend sounds like we're 12. I wanted to imply that it was a permanent and important relationship…"

"Marry me," he interrupted forcefully.

"What??" she shrieked in surprise.

"You heard me."

"Why?" She questioned him incredulously, "for eight months we've been living like this and never once have you even mentioned the idea!"

"Yeah, well, it's different now," he grumbled.

"Force, Atton," she said with a sigh, "I'd say yes if it had been important to you yesterday, but you don't want to get married… you just want to put your mark on me somehow."

"That's not true," he argued, but she cut him off.

"Hell, I have no doubt that if you were a kath hound you'd have pee'd on me in the cantina today to try to warn him off."

Atton couldn't help but break a smile at the thought. "I could pee on you now if you'd prefer that to marriage," he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes at him as she turned and wrapped her arms around him. "I love you," she said quietly, "if you ever need reassurance, my thoughts are always wide open to you, you know that."

He nodded and wrapped his arms around her as well. "Sometimes I just want other people to know it as well as I do," he said quietly as he kissed the top of her head.


End file.
